Arrogance Without Bounds
by SteeleRanger
Summary: Oneshot. This came to me rather early in the morning and wasn't finished until a week later. It's very different from anything else I've ever written, and it's a bit slashy. It accentuates on Tavington's extreme vanity.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Patriot. Also, as a note, this fic may stir up some controversial feelings, and if so, negativity towards being homosexual was not intended in this. It was written simply to show the arrogance and cruel behavior of a single character. Thank you.**_

_**-S.R.**_

The hour was late. _Very _late; even so for the Dragoons, who were still wide awake two hours after returning back to camp from spending the entire evening on raids, pillaging and burning plantation houses all along the South Carolina countryside. There was generally nothing new in the concept. The raiding had become as normal as eating. Seeing the eyes of their victims wide with fear, gasps and screams caught, caged in the back of their throats, never to be released should a bullet tear through their flesh and their souls if it hadn't done so already. There was no longer a reaction of uncertainty when they were ordered to set fire to beautiful homes; homes wrought with the intricacies and stories of their inhabitants' lives. It was simply a duty call for their master who might as well have been Satan himself.

Ah yes, Colonel William Tavington, their infamous leader. With eyes that could see into a man's soul yet reflected naught within himself, it was of no consequence to him to commit the heinous acts that caused a stir, even amongst his fellow Britons. If anything the expression upon his deceptively handsome face was one of slight annoyance and irritation, as if the destruction couldn't happen fast enough. But that was how he was with everything. There was purpose in all of his actions. Every single shot fired from his pistol, every blow from his saber. Even in a casual walk, there was nothing frivolous about Col. Tavington. He existed for his purpose and nothing more. And though the masses would say that his purpose was simply bent on the demise of others, he had other things in mind. Destruction was merely a tool. A tool he was the _supreme_ master of, capable of not only wielding it in its physical form but in its psychological form as well. It was no effort for him to simply break into the mind of a hapless colonial or an unfortunate soldier and channel their fears, showing only disdain and an eerie hunger in return. Psychological power, the ability to play such complex mind games, was his greatest weapon. Deadlier than any blade or bullet. And coupled with his vanity, Col. Tavington's capabilities with such abilities were nearly boundless. Yet only his subordinate, a Captain Fredrick Bordon, would truly see how boundless it really was on this particular eve...

The raids, though lasting longer than Col. Tavington had anticipated, had gone smoothly, just as they had been for quite a while. So, once he had finished getting his rather aggressive stallion settled in for the night, away from the other horses before he made sure that everything in the camp had been taken care of to _his_ liking, he sought to reward himself with the most expensive camp whore he could find. Tall, well-endowed, with a build that was neither too thin nor too round, Mara Burrows was the envy of every camp follower that had ever been with the Dragoons; with wavy raven hair, obsidian eyes and fair silken skin, she was every soldier's desire.

Mara had even offered enticing services to the captain on two occasions. Yet he had politely declined, stating that he couldn't currently finance such an enchanting evening but would call on her when he was able to afford it. However, the truth of the matter was that he _could_ afford a night with Ms. Burrows, but his preference was not in her. No, it wasn't her lack of appearance or skill in the areas her 'career' demanded. He just simply didn't have interest in her... or any other woman, for such deeds. But of course, it wasn't something Capt. Bordon ever discussed for fear of what would happen if anyone found out, especially Col. Tavington. Instead, like the others who shared his dilemma, he chose to try repressing his sexuality, pleasuring himself, or, at last resort, seeking out one of the camp followers to release his frustrations upon. Normally, these things hardly ever occurred, for he had nearly mastered his repression. Also, spending all day either in the saddle or writing reports each day for the past several years was enough to make him too tired to even completely contemplate such desires. However, as he watched Ms. Burrows follow Col. Tavington into his tent, the captain felt his urges begin to rise within him.

"Aw hell..." Bordon groaned in mild irritation, unbuttoning his black riding trousers to release his now throbbing member.

Wrapping a sweaty hand around his length, the captain began to rub himself in a desperate furore, looking up suddenly as he heard a moan issue from the colonel's private 'quarters'. It was Ms. Burrows, and from a slightly open crack in the tent flap, he could see her open and exposed frame heaving beneath a thoroughly aroused Col. Tavington, who knelt over her in naught but his breeches, licking and biting lightly at her nipples while teasing her with a well practiced hand between her legs.

"Oh dear god.." Bordon bit back a groan; how he was wishing he could replace the whore at that very moment!

And this was the young captain's worst obsession and vice. Col. Tavington was anything but homosexual yet still, Bordon craved him. He craved his precise, dominant, expert touch with the commandingly passionate, rough kisses that came from his lips. Simply put, Capt. Fredrick _wanted_ his superior. Of course, it terrified him to no end to think that Col. Tavington would even suspect it.

Another moan issued from inside the tent; Bordon could no longer surpress his needs, so he continued to stroke himself, coming to a release that he hoped wouldn't be too loud whilst continuing to watch the colonel tease and tantalize Ms. Burrows into torturous pleasure. Unfortunately, he groaned quite loudly, releasing his seed. Suddenly, everything fell into a haunted silence, even inside the tent. To the captain's utter horror, his superior came stalking out of the tent with a sadistic smirk on his face.

"Captain.."

Bordon tried to respond but all that came out was a strangled choking noise.

"Come here, Bordon." The Butcher beckoned him forward, his right index finger curled into a hook.

"Please, no.." Capt. Bordon said under his breath, eyes wide with fear and embarrassment, yet he felt himself moving towards the object of his obsession until they were inside his tent, where an appalled Mara Burrows tried to make a hasty exit, but was stopped with a single gesture from Col. Tavington.

"Back in the bed.." He spoke the order with a quiet voice; there was no need to yell, for he had all the control.

Turning his attention back to his captain, the colonel took a step towards him and leaned forward until their faces were but inches from eachother.

"Is something wrong, Captain?" The question sounded normal enough; still the undertone in Col. Tavington's voice coupled with the malicious glint in his wolf-like eyes, said otherwise.

"N-no, nothing is wrong." Bordon stammered his response, quaking under his superior's unyielding gaze.

"Are you sure?" His warm breath snaked under the captain's nose, smelling faintly of alcohol though the colonel was far from inebriated.

"Yes-"

Capt. Bordon halted his answer when Col. Tavington brought a slightly tanned hand to his face. Fearing that he might be hit, the captain closed his eyes, tensing for the blow but they snapped back open as he felt a gentle caress upon his cheek.

_Surely... _Bordon was wary; there was no way the colonel would truly reciprocate his feelings... was there?

Nonetheless, his superior continued to stroke his cheek, each touch more precise than the last until he replaced coaxing fingers with methodic lips, ghosting them over the side of Bordon's face as the captain surrendered his anxiety to need and was slowly driven mad by the seductive attentions. Vaguely, he heard Ms. Burrows let out a tiny yelp but she was forced to silence again with a harsh gesture from Col. Tavington before he covered his subordinate's lips with his own. Softly, gently, the kiss began, allowing Bordon a moment to adjust to the feel of his superior's mouth. Then the intensity increased and the captain was drawn into it, desperate for more. But when he tried to ease his tongue past his superior's mouth, Col. Tavington pulled away, dealing a bone bruising blow to Bordon's ribs that sent him reeling back against his cot and finally to the ground. Mara Burrows let out a small scream before trying to move to see if the captain was all right but was roughly shoved back onto the bed by Col. Tavington, who came to stand over him, leering down at him, icy eyes shining with malicious mirth. Still, he leaned down to pull a shocked, wincing captain to his feet.

"Sir I-"

"Did you honestly think, Bordon, that I would even be the slightest bit attracted to you?" The colonel spoke in a voice so soft that even Capt. Bordon had to listen closely. "I've a _whore_ in my bed, not a _man_; if I wanted a man, it would be all too easy to get one."

Bordon's face contorted into a mixture of hurt and shame at his superior's words before he was unceremoniously told to "get the hell out" and all but fled the tent. Meanwhile, a smug Col. Tavington continued a mildly forced evening with his 'reward', not giving a second thought to the sordid actions that had just occurred; they were of no consequence to him.


End file.
